Sunday I spent the majority of the day in bed, watching the continuous coverage of the massacre that just took place in Orlando. I heard the stories of mothers searching for their missing sons, Pulse patrons unsure if their beloved were dead, alive, or injured. I watched reports evolve from “mass casualty” to “50 people are dead.”
I spent... the day glued to the coverage, wanting to turn it off just as much as I needed to watch. I felt that LA Pride, which was happening not far away, would be colored a lot differently now that a gunman had unloaded untold ammunition into a gay bar because of how he felt about two men kissing. Then, to literally bring it closer to home, to read that a man had just been arrested on his way to LA Pride with explosives and ammunition — all the feelings around being #proud were a veritable soup of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Read more on The Huffington Post.